Partners
by MagicInHerMadness
Summary: Sheriff Rick Grimes never imagined his deputy Michonne would become his best friend in the world. But will the possibility of her leaving make her more than that? AU. No walkers.
**A/N: Hi! So this was inspired by a pic I saw of Richonne wearing their matching constable uniforms. It got me thinking about how good they are at being partners so I wrote this. It's AU because that's mostly my thing. I hope y'all like it.**

Rick adjusted his tie as he sat in the front seat of his cruiser. He could see his deputy sheriff Michone, whom he affectionately called "Michy," coming out of the precinct, wearing a uniform identical to his. He had to admit that the dull navy jacket and pants looked much better on his partner's lithe frame than on his. She wore her long dark locs half-up that day, and he could see she was carrying her .9MM glock, affectionately named "Lucille," peeking from under her jacket. He knew it was going to be quite the day if she'd broken out Lucille.

She reached the car and got in, smirking at him as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the Bruce Springsteen song playing on the radio. "Normally I'd let you go on, but I can't do your music today."

Rick looked over at her with a smile then popped the CD out of the player. "What do you have in mind, Mich?"

"Dunkin Donuts and The Party Mix," she replied as she fished her CD from the glove compartment and popped in the player. "It's gonna be a rough day."

"Must be if you're breaking out the party mix." The party mix was a CD Michonne had made of the most upbeat songs she could find for their particularly rough days.

"We've finally got enough to arrest those dog-fighters on third. One of their younger ones put a video on facebook. Brutal shit. They poured glass on them. I wanna nail those sons of bitches to the wall." Rick watched her frown intensify then dissipate. She was the best at compartmentalizing that he knew. She took a deep breath then hit the PLAY button on the player, quickly skipping to her favorite song.

" _Baby when I met you there was peace unknown/ I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb/ I was soft inside/ There was something going on_ ," Rick sang, smiling when Michonne looked at him curiously. " _Yes_ I sing."

Michonne only smiled, reaching over to pat his hand on the steering wheel as he turned a corner. " _You do something to me that I can't explain/ Hold me closer and I feel no pain/ Every beat of my heart/ We got something going on_ …"

" _Tender love is blind/ It requires a dedication/ All this love we feel needs no conversation/ We ride it together, ah ha/ Making love with each other, ah ha…_ "

Rick joined her for the chorus. " _Islands in the stream/ That is what we are No one in between/ How can we be wrong/ Sail away with me/ To another world/ And we rely on each other, ah ha/ From one lover to another, ah ha…_ "

Rick turned into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot and found a space close to the door. He cut the ignition then turned to her. "I wish you didn't like eating here. Cops and doughnuts is the worst joke going."

"You're the one who's always eating doughnuts." Michonne never got doughnuts, usually opting for a muffin and a chicken salad croissant with her iced coffee. Rick had to satisfy his sweet tooth with glazed doughnuts and a chocolate chip frappuccino.

"Only because you won't take me anywhere else."

She smirked at him as she hopped out of the SUV. "You're the one who's driving, Grimes."

XXXXX

Michonne held Lucille steady as she stared into the eyes of the PCP-hyped leader of the dog-fighting ring. He had managed to get the upper hand against Rick, holding him with a gun pressed to his temple. She breathed evenly, not wanting to follow her instinct and kill him. She knew they needed him alive to bring down the whole ring, but the sight of Rick struggling in his drug-strengthened grip had her determined to find an alternative so she could splatter his brains everywhere.

She should have been angry at Rick. He was the one who had jumped the gun and barged in without backup being on the scene. And she had backed his play instead of making him wait. But none of that mattered. She needed him alive more than they needed a lowlife criminal. "Don't make this worse than it is, Loco. Let him go and we'll walk out of here."

"And go where? I'm not going back to jail! I wouldn't have to kill him if he'd let me run off!" the man replied, tightening his hold on Rick who struggled in return. Michonne knew he had another gun in his ankle holster, but there was no way he could get to it.

"Just let him go! Look at all these guns on you. You'll be dead before you can think of pulling the trigger.

They stared at each other, Rick squirming frantically in the middle, before a gunshot rang out. Backup swarmed the scene immediately and Michonne's gun fell to the concrete floor with a clatter as she rushed to where Loco and Rick lay in a heap. She rolled the dead man's body over then took Rick's face in her hands. "Rick! Rick!"

His eyes fluttered open and he stared at his partner, her tears falling on his cheeks. "I thought I was dead. I thought he shot me."

She vigorously shook her head. "He didn't! I stopped him!"

Rick finally sat up, becoming more aware of his lack of injury. Michone scrambled to her feet and helped him up. She wiped her face, gaining control of herself. She knew she couldn't be the only woman on the scene, and the only one crying. Rick looked down at her, wiping at his own face. "You saved my life, Mich."

She sniffed. "I had to. I'd probably go hungry if you weren't around to buy me breakfast."

He clasped her head and brought it to his chest in a brief hug. "At least now I owe it to you."

xXx

That night

Rick sipped his free beer, courtesy of the owner of St. Michael's, a cop bar named for the patron saint of police, then looked at Michonne with a smile, watching as she fiddled with the ancient jukebox to get it playing. She walked back to their table and plopped down in the chair next to him, picking up her own beer and taking a sip. "Who'd've thought all it took was you almost getting your head blown off to get us a night of free drinks."

Rick snorted and bumped her elbow with his. "I could use it. Keeping you fed is gonna send me to the poorhouse."

Michonne laughed as Daryl, a detective in the precinct closest to the sheriff's office, approached, a beer in his hand. Michonne smiled as she slid her chair over to let him sit beside her. He smirked as he plopped into his chair, scooting it back to prop his feet up on the table. "Word on the street is y'all have been playing Batman and Robin."

Michonne and Rick immediately looked at each other and simultaneously declared, "I'm Batman!"

They both laughed, launching into a debate about who was better equipped to be Batman. Daryl watched with a smirk and shook his head. "Y'all are crazier than road lizards."

Michonne crinkled her eyebrows. "The fuck is a road lizard?"

Daryl snorted and shook his head. "I've known you for fifteen years and you still don't know jack shit, Chonne."

Michonne and Daryl had been in the same group home as teens. Both rather quiet, they bonded immediately over the ease of being together but not talking. When Daryl turned 18 and went into the police academy, Michonne followed without a second thought. Michonne mused that once upon a time they'd been in puppy love, but now they were just best friends. She punched his shoulder. "Sorry I still don't speak redneck after all these years."

"Hell I'm from the south and I still don't," Rick interjected with a chuckle. Michonne gave Daryl a triumphant smile and he rolled his eyes. Rick stood. "Y'all want some more beers?"

"And some onion rings," Michonne replied. Rick gave her a pointed look and she threw her hands up. "What? I'm hungry. And you owe me."

"That's gonna get real old real quick, Mich." He smirked as he walked away.

At the bar, Rick placed his order for Michonne's onion rings, requesting they be fried crunchy like she liked them, then sat on a stool. He looked over at the table where Michonne was laughing, her head thrown back, at whatever story Daryl was telling. Rick watched for a moment, his stomach tight. He had only known Michonne for a year and a half, but it didn't take him long to grow jealous of Michonne and Daryl. When he learned their history, he wrote them off as siblings, but as he got to know them both, he knew that wasn't the case for their bond. He liked Daryl just fine, but he couldn't quiet the ire of envy roiling in his gut as Daryl draped his arm over the back of Michonne's chair.

Michonne's onion rings came up a few minutes later and Rick took them back to the table, happy that Daryl had disappeared. He set the plastic basket before her with a flourish then sat down. The speakers crooned Shinedown's "If You Only Knew." Rick leaned over to murmur something about a detective who had just entered and she turned to hear him better over the loud music.

Rick couldn't fathom what had changed in the moment, what made it different from every other time that he looked at her beautiful face, but something clicked inside him. Maybe it was that she had saved his life. Maybe it was how she had pulled her hair back and left her face open. Maybe it was the four beers he'd had. Whatever it was made him drape his arm over the back of her chair as he leaned in to kiss her lips.

Her hand splayed on his chest, but she didn't protest his action as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He kissed the corners of her mouth, then her bottom lip, enjoying the pillowy softness. He opened his eyes as he pulled away. Hers were still closed, her expression serene.

"Rick…" Her voice was barely above a whisper but even in the loud bar, he heard her.

"I'm sorry." He leaned back out of her space, his common sense returning as he realized he'd crossed the line. "I don't know what I'm doing, Mich. I just—"

"You taste like beer." She wiped an onion ring crumb off the corner of his mouth. A small smile played on her lips, but her eyes didn't meet his.

"I'm s—"

"It's okay," she interrupted, finally looking up at him briefly.

Daryl returned and they both shifted in their seats. The detective noticed something amiss with them, but to him, there had been something amiss between Rick and Michonne since they'd met. He'd never seen two people so clearly attracted to each other avoid the elephant in the room so deliberately. They were like deer in heat, playing hard to get in the woods.

xXx

One Week Later

Michonne and Rick sat at their usual table in St. Michael's, their beer bottles collecting between them. Michonne shook her head. "I don't know. I just don't think I'm ready to be a sheriff."

"Why not? You're damn good at it," Rick insisted.

Michonne had been offered an inside track to becoming the sheriff of the next county over. She knew it was the opportunity of a lifetime, one that she'd never get again if she missed it, but something was holding her to Kings County. Although, it was more someone than something. "I just got here, though. This place is finally starting to feel like home."

"But you'll never be sheriff here." She glared at him and he quickly shook his head. "Not cause of me. Cause of how things are. You know what I'm saying."

She knew. Kings County sheriff's department was and always would be a boy's club. Becoming deputy sheriff had been a surprise, and it was no secret how Rick had fought for her. She nodded. "But I've adjusted. I know this place and how to work it."

"And Alexandria will be yours. You won't have to work it cause you'll be top of the food chain, Mich."

Michonne nodded then shook her head. "You don't understand cause this has always been your home. It was your whole campaign strategy. A son of Kings County taking it back from crime. I've never had a place like this. Nowhere had ever felt like this for me. I don't know if I'm ready to leave that behind yet."

"I know." He squeezed her shoulder, thinking that he wasn't sure if he was ready for her to leave him and Kings County behind either.

Later that night, Michonne lay in bed in her quiet house and thought about her talk with Rick. All the things she'd said about Kings County were things that she could have easily been saying to and about him. He had been the reason she didn't immediately leave the sheriff's department behind, the reason she didn't' stick to hers and Daryl's precinct and keep beating the street with him. Rick had gone above and beyond for her to feel comfortable in her job, with him beside her. And he'd reached out to her, didn't stop until he broke through her cold exterior. She had found him annoying at first, cracking jokes with Daryl about "Officer Friendly" as he'd become known, but now she was glad that he'd been so determined to know her. The thought of leaving that behind didn't merely scare her. It broke her heart.

xXx

One Month Later

The prospect of being sheriff somewhere else took a backseat to the summer's crime wave. She and Rick were patrolling like beat cops, handling everything from run-of-the-mill evictions to full-blown drug busts. Going to St. Michael's became a nightly thing, a nice end to what was usually a shit day. They sat at their usual table, Michonne between Daryl and Rick. Her thin shoulders slumped as she frowned at her golden beer.

A drug bust had gone worse than she and Rick imagined, and she'd had to kill a wild-eyed woman in front of her four-year-old son. She looked glumly at Daryl. "That kid's going in the system."

Daryl nodded and pulled her into a little hug, giving her temple a kiss. "It might not go that bad, Chonne. We didn't turn out so terrible."

She shook her head. "Not in the end. But remember the beginning."

They had both been around 5 when they entered the system and Michonne could vividly remember the change from a permanent home to a temporary one. She remembered missing her family, and wondering why things were suddenly so different. And now she had done that to a child. She had taken his permanent home. Rick could see her eyes glassing as she set down her beer. He squeezed her hand. "Mich, he couldn't grow up in that house. A coked out mother letting her boyfriend cook meth in the kitchen while he's eating breakfast. One bad move and they'd have all died. You might not believe it but you probably saved that boy's life. Don't beat yourself up."

She gave a small nod and Rick almost smiled. He pinched her cheek. "I'm gonna get you some onion rings."

He left the table and Daryl nudged her. She turned to look at him. "Come on now, Chonne. Never known you to hang onto stuff like this. Buck up now, darlin'."

"You know what it is." He nodded and she sighed. "Maybe I should go to Alexandria. Supposedly it's way quieter. What do you think?"

Daryl nodded. "Alexandria's alright. Course quiet don't mean nothing. The worst shit hides in the nicest neighborhoods. But maybe a change wouldn't be so bad."

"And it's mine if I want it. Abraham basically told me the election is a formality."

"But you don't wanna go." Daryl looked at her knowingly. She didn't say anything, instead sipping her beer. "Is it cause Officer Friendly's sweet on you?"

Michonne nearly snapped her neck turning to stare at him with wide eyes. "What?"

Daryl could almost believe she didn't know. "Shit. Look at me shooting my mouth off."

"Did he…say something?"

Daryl smirked. "Believe it or not, I'm trained in observing things that don't normally meet the eye. Some might say detection is my job. There's also the fact that I've got eyes and ears and use my head for more than sporting good hair."

Michonne smirked. "You done?"

He shrugged. "Reckon so. only thing left is for me to ask if it's worth it? Would loving him be enough?"

Again, she didn't answer, and Daryl chuckled, picking up his beer as Rick began walking toward them. He nudged her again. "You know what you want, Chonne. You just gotta get it."

xXx

The summer finally wound down and Michonne found herself running for sheriff, however absently. Abraham was all but demanding Alexandrians vote her into his soon-to-be vacant seat. Michonne never acted one way or the other, deciding to let Alexandria make the decision for her. If she won, she'd go, and whatever she left behind would be left. After all, Rick hadn't said anything. She knew he wanted her to stay, but all he'd done was tell her to go for what was best for her. And though they both knew that it was probably him, neither had made the definitive step, instead dancing around it and each other.

The department got together and threw her a going away party the night before the election, sure she would win. Rick volunteered to host, even though he'd rather run from rabid dogs than say goodbye to Michonne. He stayed on the party's periphery, watching Michonne and everyone else have a good time. He acknowledged for the first time that he was in love with her as he watched her sing "Islands in the Stream" with a clerk named Glenn.

Still, he knew soon he would saying goodbye to her, so he couldn't watch her for very long, instead retreating to the back porch. Michonne watched him leave and turned her karaoke mic over to Glenn's heavily pregnant wife, Maggie, so she could follow him. She wasn't surprised to find him sullenly leaning on the back porch's railing, sipping his beer slowly. She had sensed that he wasn't in a very festive mood when she arrived, and her gut feeling proved right as he stuck to the background. For the first day in nearly two years, they hadn't spoken more than once. She stood beside him, leaning her back against the railing.

She gave him a wry smile. "Was it something I said?"

He gave her the most fleeting smile, one that never reached his eyes. "Wasn't in the mood to party."

She nudged him with her elbow. "Boy do I have news for you about what's going on in your living room, Grimes."

He snorted half a laugh, nudged her back. "You must not be in the party mood either if you're out here with me."

"Where else would I be? You're my partner. I'm supposed to follow your narrow ass wherever it goes." She nudged him again. "You know the motto. If you're with it…"

"I'm with it," he finished. He finally smiled and offered his fist for her to bump. Michonne bumped it and he looked at her, his clear blue eyes serious. "Can we cut the shit for a minute, Mich?"

"Cut the shit" was their code for unbridled honesty. Michonne had coined it the night she'd told Rick he needed to leave his second wife, Jessie. He had killed her husband, Pete, in a standoff following one of their particularly brutal domestic disputes, and Jessie had clung to him like a leech immediately. But she had become used to a certain kind of man who would respond to her a certain kind of way, clearly conflating abuse with love. Rick found her goading perplexing, but infuriating all the same. She seemed to almost demand he abuse her, and he couldn't do it, so their house was a permanent powder keg. Michonne had been inadvertently present the night of Jessie's biggest stunt yet. The disagreement had started off small, over something as silly as where to put an owl sculpture. Rick thought it was ugly and wanted it anywhere but one the coffee table. Jessie insisted it had to go there. The fight went from who knew better to who loved who more and Jessie insisted Rick was the culprit. Rick told her she was crazy, that Pete had warped her mind, and she'd given him a stinging slap. He grabbed her wrist tightly enough to turn her knuckles white and something like perverse delight flashed in her eyes. Michonne heard herself call him in her sheriff voice and he looked at her, instantly dropping Jessie's hand as he realized what he was so close to doing. They left, headed for St. Michael's and she told him the truth, that Jessie would stop until she turned him into Pete, and that for both their sakes, he needed to let it go.

Michonne nodded and Rick stood upright to face her. He frowned and his shoulders dropped. "I don't want you to go, Mick. I've been with you every day for almost two years and I don't know what I'm gonna do if I can't see you every day. You saved my life. And now you're leaving me. And I want you to go, I swear. You're gonna be the best sheriff Alexandria's ever had. But I want you to stay too. Where am I gonna get another partner like you, Michy? Where am I gonna get another _friend_ like you? The easiest answer is that I'm not. I can't."

Michonne hugged him tightly, leaving no space between them, but Rick managed to pull her closer. He kissed her cheek, dangerously close to the corner of her mouth, and lingered, relishing her warmth and softness. "Don't stay for me, please don't, but I love you Mich."

"I love you too, Rick." She didn't promise not to stay for him because they had promised to cut the shit, and that would have been a lie.

This time when he pressed his lips to hers, there was nothing tenuous about it. He had felt that same click, and he knew she felt it too.

xXx

The Next Night

Michonne sat before the television, her eyes unwavering from the screen where a large clock counted down to the results of the day's voting. Rick sat beside her while Daryl stood in her kitchen, waiting on her extra butter popcorn to finish. Rick looked over at her and gave her hand, anxiously clutching her knee, a squeeze. She looked at him and relaxed briefly then went back to the screen.

Michonne wasn't even sure what she was hoping for as she watched the clock tick through its last minute. She abruptly stood. "I can't do this. It's took nerve-wracking."

She went into the kitchen and he could hear Daryl's gravelly drawl comforting her. "G'won Chonne. You gotta see what happens."

A moment later, she reentered the room and sat down beside Rick, closer than she had been. She smiled when he took covered her hand with his, intertwining their fingers. She looked at him unsurely and he smiled, gave her a wink than finally curled the corners of her mouth upward. "Don't you fret none until we see what happens, Michy."

"I won't, mostly cause I don't know what _fret none_ means." She smiled, quirking her eyebrows at him.

"And the results are in!" the perky dark-haired news anchor announced.

Michonne covered her face with her hands. "I can't watch. Tell me what happens."

Rick smirked, reaching over to pull her hands down. "Either way, you're gonna hear it, Michy."

They watched as the anchor ran through all the elections. "And now for the story we reported on a week before. Abraham Ford, sheriff of Alexandria for the past 20 years, announced that this term would be his last. Local residents have been resistant to this change, expressing their faith in the sheriff. Ironically, they have little to no faith in Michonne Mitchell, a Kings County deputy sheriff, whom he overwhelmingly endorsed. Many Alexandrians are wary of a newcomer—and an outsider—coming in to attempt filling Sheriff Ford's large shoes. But the truth is in the polls so let's get to them."

Rick looked at Michonne and found her face covered again. He reached over and removed her hands. "Look, Mich."

"I can't," she whined.

"Mich, _look_."

Michonne uncovered her face and found herself staring at Abraham's face, the word "winner" on the screen below it. The anchor's plucked eyebrows were raised in surprise as well as she looked at the prompter undoubtedly positioned between the camera. She quickly recovered her smile. "Yes, your screen is correct. In a surprising twist, Sheriff Abraham Ford has been reelected by an overwhelming number of write-in votes. Despite the sheriff's insistence that he would not run, wishing to retire after two decades of service following twelve years on the Alexandria police force, Sheriff Ford has been reelected."

"I'll be damned," Michonne murmured. She wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved. She turned to look at Rick who frowned at her.

"I'm sorry, Mich," he said, reaching out to stroke her cheek.

She caught his hand and held onto it. "Me too. But not really. But really. I don't know what I am."

"You didn't wanna lose, but you didn't wanna leave. So no harm, no foul." He pulled her into his arms. "I'm not that sad either. I wasn't ready to let you go."

Michonne settled into his embrace as Daryl entered the room, bringing the hot popcorn with him. He gave a wry smile as he sat on the couch beside them. "I take it you'll be staying with us, Chonne?"

"For now," she replied with a smile.

"Forever," Rick corrected, leaning over to kiss her temple.

Daryl grinned. "Well hot damn, let's finish this popcorn then hit Michael's. Losing an election's gotta earn us at least one round of free drinks."

Michonne laughed as she settled against Rick, glancing back at him with a smile then looking at Daryl again. "Maybe we'll meet you there."

Daryl smiled as he stood, understanding immediately. "Can I take the bowl?"

Michonne laughed. "Yeah."

Once they heard the front door shut, Michonne turned to Rick, not surprised to find him staring at her wantonly. "Wanna go upstairs, Mich?"

"Only if I can wear your hat." She grinned.

"Normally I'd say no, but under the circumstances, I guess it'll be okay." He stood, throwing her over his shoulder. "Tell you what, you can wear my belt too…and maybe those boots we got you a while back."

Michonne laughed as he carried her to the stairs."

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXOXO**


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